She wasn't like the other girls at school. She was different. A good different nonetheless, and nothing stood in her way. --not even the six-foot-something boys basketball coach at Weaver High School. Mackenzie stood on the waxy gym floor, the kind that caused your sneakers to squeak with every step you took. She hated that noise, it gave her goosebumps every time the sound reached her ears.
"C'mon, coach. Just let me try out next week." She begged, although she'd been turned down every time she'd ask.
"Miss. Smythe, I'm afraid you already know the answer to that." Coach Martin replied, looking through a pile of papers. He found the one he was looking for, and had that sudden 'ah-ha' look on his face. He handed it towards Mackenzie, and she frowned as her eyes gazed upon it.
"Cheerleading? You want me to try out for cheerleading?" The sound of disgust was evident in her voice as she clutched the thin paper tightly in her hands. "I came here because I wanted to play basketball, not to become some prissy cheerleader," Mackenzie demanded, dropping the tryout sheet onto the ground.
Coach Martin just shrugged, "I don't make the rules kid, I just follow them."
"Well can't you bend the rules just a little?" She questioned, and he shook his head.
"Have a nice night Mackenzie." He said, as he collected his things from the bleachers. Mackenzie rolled her eyes and stomped off, causing the squeaking sound that she hated ever so much. She scooped her backpack up from the floor, and headed out into the hallway.
"Any luck?" Brooklyn, her best --and only-- friend, asked.
"Nope. Apparently Coach Martin doesn't make the rules, he just follows them," she air quoted, more annoyed than anything.
"This is what I don't understand. Every sport they have for boys, they also have for girls. Soccer, tennis, baseball, track, but why not basketball?" Brooklyn asked, causing Mackenzie to just roll her eyes.
"Bridge, do you know any girls in this school that know what a basketball is?" She asked, annoyed with him, as well.
"Well, no, but I'm sure there are some," he stammered, slinging his backpack over his shoulder.
"This is exactly why there's no girls basketball team at Weaver high school." Mackenzie spat, pushing the school doors open, a gust of fresh air hitting her in the face. "And it totally sucks."
Brooklyn shrugged, "Yeah I know, but lighten up, you can always come watch me play. It's almost as much fun as actually being in the game." He suggested, and but Mackenzie wouldn't have it.
"Yeah, you know what else sounds fun?" Her voice perked up. "Stabbing myself in the face with a fork." She finished, her voice sarcastic, as per usual. Brooklyn laughed, taking her statement as a joke, which it clearly was not.
"It's not funny, Bridge. Basketball was supposed to be the one thing I had left of my Dad, and if I can't play for the same high school he did, then it's like he's completely gone." She kicked the kickstand up on her bike angrily.
"Sorry," Brooklyn mumbled, getting on his bike as well. "We can always just play at the river court*." He suggested, but Mackenzie was already peddling towards it.
* i do not own the term, "river court" it is a term used in the show one tree hill.